


Ten Last Night

by Marius2045



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Male Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marius2045/pseuds/Marius2045
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orlando finds no meaning in life anymore until faith comes with shining blue eyes to rescue him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Last Night

**Ten Last Night**

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 _I pass a file of broken chairs  
On our street corner  
And feel you  
Drying on me._

I taste the blood  
That shimmered  
On your lips.

Lingering, like guilt does.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The noise of the bar shut down when the door closed behind the young man named Orlando. He staggered slightly, trying to keep his balance. The alcohol hummed through his veins like the rhythm of the music through his ears just minutes ago. Anger held him in its arms, blazing from his brown eyes like fire out of hell.

'How could he?' thought Orlando. 'How could he dance all night with this other guy?' Karl was supposed to be paying him the attention, but instead he spent it on the dirty little boy. A kid who was barely eighteen, with his sweet face and big blue eyes always looking around as if waking from a deep slumber. He was a cute doll, the fulfilment of every perverts' dreams. In addition, Orlando's lover fell for him. 

Thinking back, he saw Karl's hands roam all over the lithe, young body under the see-through shirt, playing with the eager little buds that were his nipples. Right in front of his eyes, grinning madly when he saw him watching.

He should have known. Karl told him once when he was drunk that he was no one-man guy but Orlando did not believe him. The Kiwi was drunk for Christ sakes, why should he?

Heat rushed through his body, finding a way right into his eyes, forming the hated little drops of pain that he wished he would not shed over such a man.

Orlando wanted to scream, fill the dark night with the agonising sadness that reached for his heart, overtaking the anger. Instead, he turned around and ran. Through the almost empty street, quickly passing some lonely souls, systematically leaving the place his fate was sealed. 

He was not meant to be loved. Since the day he was born, he was never receiving love.

Love was his father's belt to show him what pain was. Just like that, just for fun, day after day. It was love that guided his father's fist into the face of his sister and that made him rape her. Love was his mother watching all this, simply disappearing one day and leaving them behind. It was his father's love that forced him to sell his body for money so he could buy bottles of his beloved whiskey. Love was in the eyes of his sister when she looked one last time at him before jumping off the roof, her body shattering on the dirty street. The same love held the gun and shot the bullet right between his father's eyes.

Nevertheless, the worst kind of love was found in Karl's eyes that night when the rain had poured down, soaking Orlando completely. He had offered him a place to stay and food. Later that night, he had offered him a warm embrace and soft kisses.

Faster and faster Orlando ran until the pain was no real pain anymore. Until his heart almost reached his bursting point and no breath was left to fill his starving lungs.

Exhausted and beaten he staggered to a halt, almost stumbling over his own feet. He managed to bend over before the drinks he had earlier spilled like a fountain from his mouth. Weakly, Orlando wiped his lips with the back of his hands. He fell to the ground, not caring about the disgusting smell of his own vomit. The shadows of the dumpsters next to him shielded him from view of the street where he came from.

He almost choked on his sobs while he tried to catch his breath. His head fell back against the wall. His eyes closed to shut down the dim, dirty light of the single lantern in the dead-end road.

The shrill scream of a cat forced him back into awareness for a moment. Shivering from the hopelessness of the situation, he reached around his knees to shield him from the chill of the night.

Darkness surrounded him once more when he let his lids fall close over the now empty mirrors to his soul.

He did not want to see or hear anything. All he wished for was to fall asleep and never wake up again. Never feel anything again, neither pain nor the all-consuming loneliness. His wish was not granted. 

The god he didn't believe in apparently had other plans.

Steps, fast and heavy, drew nearer. Two men at least, one running after the other, quickly closing in at his hiding place. A gunshot bellowed through the dark of the night but the steps never faltered. The bullet had missed and probably hit the wall of a house.

Orlando leaned his face against the top of his knees. He didn't care should they come and kill him, and rid him of the pain that was life.

They reached the corner of the small road where he was hiding and turned into it, panting to catch up with the speed of the chase.

Orlando could feel the slight stirring of air when one of the guys passed very close to where he sat. Startled now beside his misery, he looked up.

The dirty lantern caused barely enough light to display the tall man with his broad shoulders and his shaved head spinning around with powerful grace to get the wall behind his back. 

His skin was dark, or so it seemed, and in daylight he couldn't have looked more frightening than he did now in the shadows of the night. He wore black leather from head to feet, fitting tight and showing the strong built of his body. His cold eyes reflected the few drops of brightness without any signs of humanity in them. An evil grin spread over the evil face when he looked passed the frozen body sitting on the ground.

Orlando forced his eyes away from the man to see who he was looking at. The first thing he saw was the polished gun, held by strong steady hands, pointing towards the man running from it.

Bright determined eyes drew his attention to them, capturing him completely. The handsome face wore a dark stubble that matched with the blondish brown shoulder-length hair.

The man was younger and smaller than the black killer, but the white T-Shirt displayed well toned muscles and he carried a calming confidence in his own strength like an aura.

"Don't."

A light shake of his head came with his request, more amused than angry.

Orlando saw the big knife for a second in the hands of the black guy before the large man catapulted himself forward with lightning speed. He pushed the knife forward with all of his strength, but simply missed. The place where the smaller man had stood just moments ago was empty and just as fast if not even faster, he appeared behind his attacker and brought the hand with the gun down in a smashing blow.

The man with the deadly eyes fell, but while he did so he turned and threw a round strike to the stomach of his opponent.

The heart of the innocent watcher missed a beat when a thin red line appeared under the torn shirt. Only the brilliant reflexes of the blond haired man had saved him from receiving the fatal blow to his guts. An angry, hissing sound escaped his lips causing Orlando to groan with relief. Two pairs of eyes turned in his direction, realising with surprise that they had a spectator. Cursing himself, Orlando tried to back up deeper into the shadows without any success. He saw the evil grin returning on the black guy's face and the finger pointing towards him.

"You are next!"

Scared, he turned his attention on the man with the handsome face and the beautiful eyes in which the light of the lantern reflected clearly for a moment. They looked like the clear blue sky in the early morning, Orlando thought for a split of a second before he saw something in them that he had thought he'd lost a long time ago. 

Faith.

Their eyes held each other a moment longer and a small smile reached out for the young man sitting in the shadows before the man reacted and reached for the hand with the knife. They slipped and fell down landing hard on the ground.

A fight of life and death started. The men tumbled and rolled over each other, beating with strong fists in faces, chests and stomachs.

The arm holding the gun was hit strongly to the ground, causing the weapon to clatter away and land somewhere in between the dumpsters.

Orlando turned his head slowly away from the fight. He saw the gun and reached for it without really knowing what he was doing. Looking back, he saw the white T-Shirt painted with red. He saw the blood on the black man's face, dripping down in small drops into those bright blue eyes, causing the blond man to blink to clear his view.

Using the second he was blinded, the taller guy turned the hand holding the knife around while his other hand grabbed the chin of the man lying under him, exposing the throat.

Although hands held the arm with the knife, in the same strong grip they'd been holding the gun before, the tip of the red shining blade inched closer and closer to the now openly displayed neck. It cut into the skin, drawing the first bit of blood.

Scared large brown eyes watched the thin red line of fluid run down the throat before sinking into the fabric around the heaving chest. They looked into the face of the killer without any signs of mercy and next to the gun in his own hands.

Orlando's mind told him to run, but his arm moved nonetheless pointing the gun with shaking hands to the men right in front of him. 

They moved up and down, rolling around each other again in order to gain control over the knife, to defend life or to wipe it out. 

Orlando tried to target the head of the bald man but his shivering fingers and the desperate fight prevented him from a clear shot. What if he shot the wrong guy? 

The two bodies seemed to freeze for a moment, equal in strength and the power of will. 

It was now or never if he wanted to do something. Panting fearfully, he closed his eyes slowly until he could barely see. His finger bent slowly, reaching the point where the gun jumped in his hands and pushed him backwards. 

The shot echoed like thunder in his ears, deafening him for a moment. His entire body was pushed back by the force of the shot and his head connected hard with the wall of the house behind his back. A searing pain rushed through him bringing along with it the shadows and blackness that pulled him down and away from the fight. The gun fell out of his hands but he didn't notice anymore.

~~~~~~~ 

Waking up was agonizing but also incredibly soft. It took Orlando a while to locate the source of it under his head. He turned his burning face towards one side, almost instantly regretting it because searing hot pain coursed through the back of his head and his shoulders. A low whimper rushed past his slightly parted lips, which he tried to hide by rolling his aching body to the left side and burying his face in the pillow underneath his head. 

It smelled faintly of moonflowers Orlando couldn't help notice despite the pain he was in. His hands clawed helplessly into the equally soft blanket that laid over his now shivering form. Terribly startled he jerked back when a hand took the blanket to wrap it tightly around his shoulders but strong hands pulled him back. Orlando tried to tear his eyes open but all he could see for a long moment were shadows. His head swam with dizziness and he fought the urge to throw up again.

"Lie still!"

The voice was firm but gentle but Orlando was too scared to react properly. His arms lashed about to free himself from the restraint that was the blanket and when he finally threw it off he didn't stand a chance against the strong hands of the person Orlando still couldn't see clearly.

He cried out when the man climbed onto the bed and straddled him with powerful legs while one hand on his chest pushed him down and the other wrapped the blanket around him again. "It's okay, nobody is going to hurt you. Just lie still." Not the smallest hint of strain was heard in his voice, still very calm and gentle.

Tears caused by pain and fear started to run down Orlando's cheeks. Little whimpers and sobs escaped his heaving chest while he still tried to free himself furiously. 

A small-annoyed sigh reached Orlando's ears before he was pulled into unyielding arms in a hug stronger than any iron shackles could have restraint him. A warm body pressed him deeper into the bed-sheets and a big palm was gentle but firmly placed over Orlando's still unfocused eyes.

"Silencio Querido. Esto es bien, usted es seguro aquí. No voy a hacer daño a usted. Calme, esto es un muchacho bueno.. *"

The voice was back, now soothing his state with its calmness, murmuring words Orlando couldn't understand. In a language, he barely recognised as Spanish in his panic.

Orlando didn't know if it was the voice or the way he was held as he hadn't been held in 20 years but he started to breath easier. 

Maybe it was the safe darkness brought to him by strength holding him so tightly within its arms that the shivers running over his sweaty skin grew less frantic before they were barely visible.

Maybe it was the fault of the soft kisses placed all over the right side of his neck and face, which finally calmed him down almost completely. 

Normally Orlando would have been repulsed by kisses from a man he didn't even know but in his state, in those strong arms, in the soft bed, which all clearly presented a safe haven to his befuddled mind, he couldn't help to feel exactly that. Safe.

He'd calmed down enough to feel a broad shoulder under his head instead he pillow. A warm, well-built chest pressed into his back and the right arm of the man tightly around his chest with the hand holding both of his in one strong grip. The sweet whispered words still flowed unhurriedly over him relaxing only with their presence. And suddenly Orlando understood again, realising the language had changed back to English with a few scattered words still in Spanish.

"I am not going to hurt you. Safe, you are safe here with me."

Orlando wanted to snort, laugh, or scream at the man, but found he couldn't. Because deep down in his heart he wanted to believe... he wanted to believe in the faith he'd seen in those bright-blue eyes back there in the dirty street while he wished he was dead.

"Go to sleep."

A small whimper suspiciously close to a sob escaped Orlando. Sleep sounded good compared to the ache in his shoulders and the throbbing pain in the back of his head after the effort to escape. It sounded brilliant thinking about the tiredness rushing like a wave through his entire body but Orlando just knew he was too tired to go asleep now. His mind was restless and no matter what his body told him, he would find no sleep.

Suddenly uncomfortable in the strong embrace, Orlando moved restlessly around, trying to find a better position. He was almost shocked by the emotions coursing through him when his hands were carefully released. The hand over his eyes stayed where it was while Orlando could feel the one holding his wrists sliding down before settling under his T-Shirt and on his stomach, drawing small circles with soft fingers over his skin.

Orlando sobbed-sighed and tensed a little when he felt the hand slip under his clothes but relaxed again under the soothing touch.

"Sleep."

'I can't!' Orlando wanted to scream but all he did was shiver uneasily. 

A low humming appeared instead of words at the same time the hand from his stomach wandered deeper over his body. For a split second it stopped at the cuff of the boxer-shorts Orlando was wearing before warm fingers dived inside, shivers and low whimpers not able to stop them. Orlando couldn't finish the thought about where his jeans had gone and that this was wrong before the warm hand firmly grabbed his cock.

Orlando's entire body shuddered and he jumped a little, held only by the hand over his eyes and the hot fingers tightening even more around him.

"Relax."

More kisses were pressed on his neck, while the tight grip loosened a little.

"Feel."

Slowly the fingers around him started to move, sliding slowly up and down, the thumb caressing more firmly than the rest of the fingers.

Heat caressed upwards until it reached the crown of his now fully interested and erect cock, sliding with agonising slowness repeatedly over the top and the little slit in it.

"Enjoy."

Breathless gasps filled the air around Orlando and unconsciously he shook his head from one side to the other. Tears spilled from his eyes, the hand over his eyes ignoring the wetness and not wavering one second, staying safely put.

Orlando knew this was wrong but it was the right side of wrong making sure he felt safe enough to enjoy every minute of it.

Orlando groaned and whimpered, pushing backward; his hands grasping the muscled hip behind him, not sure if it was to encourage the man or to stop him.

The hand on his cock worked harder, causing more tears to spill from his eyes, leaving Orlando's past behind with every silver drop.

"I am Viggo by the way."

A wet tongue sneaked out and over the shell of Orlando's ear, making him cry out with over stimulated nerves.

"Come for me."

Orlando did just that, coming hard, screaming his release into the faithful darkness the hand on his eyes provided. He sobbed with relief when Viggo's hand around his cock finally stilled and the spasm shaking his body subsided. His muscles relaxed and his mind went comfortingly silent.

"Sleep."

And this time he fell asleep, not noticing Viggo cleaning him up quickly before wrapping the blanket around Orlando and sliding into bed with him again. He pulled Orlando into his embrace once more, holding him strong and safe. At least for tonight.

End

**Author's Note:**

> Translation: Silencio Querido. Esto es alright, usted es seguro aquí. No voy a hacer daño a usted. Calme, esto es un muchacho bueno - Hush Dear. It's alright, you are safe here. I am not going to hurt you. Calm down, that's a good boy


End file.
